In the Light of His Shadow
by ImaXXeatXXyeh
Summary: Nothing had been easy for Sera Hawke after the events in Ferelden. But now her and the rest of her family reside in Kirkwall, determined to make a fresh start. When she meets the elf, Fenris, she sees him as a pleasant diversion. Yet as she becomes closer to him, she is compelled by the elf's dark past, and realizes that her natural female response is to nurture and protect him.
1. Bait and Switch

ONE: Bait and Switch

Sera Hawke had never remembered a longer boat ride in her life. Of course, the recent events that had occurred didn't make it any shorter. Her mother sat beside her with her face buried in her knees, silently crying. Her brother, Carver, was wearing an expression that suggested he had been previously hit over the head. The woman who was accompanying them, Aveline, was sitting across from them, slightly farther off and permitted the family time to face their own thoughts of grief. Of course, the Hawke family wasn't the only one who had lost someone to the blight. Hawke had had to run a dagger though Aveline's tainted husband's chest to prevent him from further pain.

But Hawke . . . she was just . . . numb. Perhaps because of this she should have considered herself the luckiest one here. But the image of that beast of an ogre reaching down for her baby sister and ensnaring her between his stump-like fingers. Perhaps what hurt Hawke most was how quick it had happened. Bethany was swept from her feet like she was a mere bug to the giant.

After all the running from the Templars, all that hiding, she is to be crushed to death by a monster.

It wasn't fair.

But they had a plan. They would find Hawke and Carver's uncle, Gamlen, and return to the family estate. Hawke would've been happy about it if she had her sister there beside her. Also, returning to her mother's homeland, Kirkwall, was going to be extremely risky, more so for Hawke herself if she wanted to avoid the Templars.

Though the Templars weren't at the top of her concerns; Hawke had had an easy enough time fitting in back in her home, Ferelden. She had even joined the Templar recruits, in secrecy of course. It was her belief that if she merely blended in with the crowd that was trying to hunt her down, with them would be the last place they would look.

So instead of a staff over her back she held two twin daggers. The weapons of a rogue. She considered herself Mage-Rogue, as she knew how to wield a blade as she might any magical staff.

The ship, at long last, came to a stop. The sudden immobileness seemed to send everyone on board into a state of alert. Every head popped up and Hawke glanced up only to see two large cliffs hovering over the passageway of the ship. She could hear gulls make their calls or the occasional dock man from nearby.

Weeks she had been stuffed in that shit hole with the starved-for-hope, crazy, and desperate people that were able to escape the jaws of the Blight. Any longer and Hawke assumed that she very well might have lost her mind.

The group trudged off of the ship with an air that suggested that they were leaving a last part of their memory behind. Bethany really was dead. She was not coming back.

Hawke breathed in a lungful of fresh sea air. Though the scent was refreshing, it was alien to her. She had never seen the sea before and first time being was when her sister had just died. She now knew that whenever smelling thew ocean she would be seethingly reminded of her time on that ship after Bethany's death.

She faced the City of Chains with brows furrowing over her pale, gray-blue eyes. This was the start of her new life, her new attempts to forget about the ones that her and her family had lost. In all honesty, the potential scared her. If she knew what she might encounter upon finally entering the city, maybe she would have preferred to die back in the Blight.

* * *

ONE YEAR LATER

Hawke was drunk. In fact, she was most of the time these days. Ever since her retirement from the Red Iron and working for Meeran, she hadn't had much to look forward to in the dark hole that happened to be Gamlen's home. During the servitude, Hawke had been complaining the whole time. But now after it, she was complaining that there was nothing to do.

This wasn't entirely true however. What with trying to gain the fifty gold coins for the Deep Roads expedition to gain some coin for her and family, and running around the city of Kirkwall.

And now, here she sat in the corner of the Hanged Man with the bottom of her glass up in the air and her mind swirling dangerously. In all honesty she had to admit she was pretty pathetic.

"Another pint, Hawke?" inquired Varric.

"Not tonight, Varric," muttered Hawke, leaning forward on the table and slouching slightly. Oblivious to Hawke's answer, he pushed another drink under her nose. Almost completely absentmindedly, she raised the glass to her lips and drank deeply.

"Do you know what your problem is, Hawke?" said Varric, sitting opposite her.

"That I haven't had a good shag in over a year?"

"You're a pessimist. You don't let yourself see the brighter side of the picture."

"Would that have something to do with that I'm constantly running from Templars, living in my smuggler uncle's shack with my mother and brother, that we almost starve every week, or that I have to listen to my mother cry every night in her sleep?"

Varric showed his sympathy in his yellowish-brown eyes but picked up his demeanor almost immediately.

"See, that's why you'll be mopey all the time; by focusing on all the bad things you almost intently bring down your mood."

Hawke gave a noncommittal grunt.

"Well, I was going to tell you something that could cheer you up, but if you're going to act like that . . ."

Hawke glanced at the stout dwarf sitting opposite her. She had liked Varric ever since she met two months ago with the offer that if she collected fifty gold pieces, she could go on the expedition with him and his brother. She had thought him spunky, resourceful, and amusing. Yet now as they began to grow closer, she found him downright annoying with his display of honesty.

"What?" Hawke forced out. Varric smirked, obviously satisfied that he had peeked Hawke's curiosity.

"A job. Simple one, too."

Hawke frowned. "You get me enough jobs, Varric. Most of them shit ones. If you're going to tell me that the Burdleworth's need their cat being walked again . . ."

"No, nothing like that," said Varric, resting his index finger on his mouth as he studied Hawke closely. "I know you like your danger, but that will come eventually. I'm mostly mentioning this one because it pays well. All you need to do is find this dwarf's lost item and retrieve it for him. He promised who ever recovered it for him would be repaid handsomely."

Hawke sat up a little straighter, pushing aside her mug and crossing her arms over her chest. Her light eyes were alit with some interest.

"What dwarf?" she questioned.

"Goes by the name Anso. We could call Isabela and Anders to help us out, if you'd like."

"What is this about me?" came a voice from nearby. Isabela sat herself beside Hawke with a breath off alcohol pertruding heavily from her mouth. "Talking dirty things about me, are we? Naughty, naughty."

"Isabela," said Hawke with a small smirk. "Feel like coming along on an exciting mission?"

"Ooo. Is it the kind where we fearlessly face dragons, giant spiders, and walking corpses?" she said excitedly.

"More like finding a dwarf's lost object," said Hawke, still smiling. Isabela's face fell.

"You Fereldans don't know how to have any fun," she pouted. After a moment she sighed. "Very well. Drag me along with whatever boring mission you have now. Maker knows I have nothing better to do."

"And shall we call up blondie?" chuckled Varric.

"Let's leave the glowy mage off to do his own business tonight," murmured Hawke. "I wouldn't be too happy if we woke him up and he turned us all into toads."

"Can mages really do that?" said Isabela, with an earnest air of excitement. Varric and Hawke glanced at her. "Just mentioning," she added defensively. "If Hawke could turn all of our opponents into toads, it would make killing them much easier."

Hawke got to her feet and swayed a bit on the spot. She, Varric, and Isabela left the little desolate bar and into the night. Hawke found the water barrel nearby and dipped her entire head in it, rising only to have her ebony hair stick to her shoulders and back.

"Sober?" chortled Varric, amused slightly by Hawke's discomfort.

"Sober enough," said Hawke with a small smile, whipping her wet hair behind her back and shaking her head like a dog. "Where's this bloke, anyway?"

"Not far," said Varric. He led them down the stone steps and Hawke was looking slightly anxiously around her shoulders. Lowtown wasn't the safest of places and she was prepared to test 'toad magic' if the situation called for it.

Up ahead, they saw a black-haired dwarf with his back turned to them. He was muttering under his breath in a sort of finicky way.

"You must be Anso," commented Hawke. The dwarf whirled around.

"Sweet mother of partha, don't just go sneaking up on someone like that in the dead of night!" he said anxiously, seeming to be genuinely terrified. Hawke tried to hide her amusement. "Yes, I am the dwarf, Anso. Are you, um, by any chance here to answer my ad for help?"

"Something about a missing product?" said Hawke. "And a good price."

"Y-yes," the dwarf stammered. Hawke's eyes narrowed slightly. "My apologies. I am not used to being out in the open like this. I keep thinking that I'll fall into that great sky above."

"Ha!" chortled Varric. "Bartrand used to be like this. Kept thinking the sky was going to swallow him up whole."

"All the same," continued Anso, his bright eyes scanning Hawke steadily. "You look like a woman who can pull her own weight. A product of mine has been—misplaced. The people who were delivering it decided not to. If you can retrieve it for me, I can promise you that there is much coin involved."

Hawke was slightly hesitant. The job almost seemed too easy for such a large amount of pay. But being the person she was, she tended to be highly impulsive at times.

"Consider it done," she said.

"You have my thanks," the dwarf uttered. "The item should be placed in a house in the Alienage. It will be in a chest in one of the back rooms. If it's possible, try not to slaughter the guards. But if you have to—I guess there's no helping it."

As the group hurried off down through the dark Lowtown, Hawke's thoughts went back to her mother in her uncle's little shack of a house. Hawke knew she secretly blamed her for her sister's death over a year ago and even sometimes considered that she would have rather Sera die then Bethany. It was a terrible conclusion, and it probably wasn't true, but her fears remained immobile.

When they entered the Alienage, Hawke was surprised they had met no trouble yet. But as they walked into the directed house, it changed. Several armed men were waiting for them.

Now here in the dead of night with no visible guards nearby, Hawke was free to use her magic at will. It was like a sort of long awaited release as she cast her spells on her opponents. She specialized in elemental spells and distantly remembered her father teaching her and Bethany as a child while Carver was barely big enough to wield a sword.

These memories made Hawke feel strangely lonely and lost. Their family had been a perfect circle before. Then when the Blight began, it started to crack. And now currently in Kirkwall, the circle was barely hanging onto a few pieces.

Hawke made one last electric bolt to the remaining soldier and breathed a sigh of relief. She walked into the next room and opened the chest Anso told her about. But nothing was in it. Hawke's eyebrows pulled together and she glanced behind the box.

"Nothing," she said in confusion, a small prick of panic shooting through her. Did someone else confiscate Anso's belongings, or was this a trap?

"Nothing?" repeated Varric, sounding both worried and crestfallen. Hawke stood up, glancing around. "Let's head back."

But as the group exited the front door, they had some people waiting for them. For one agonizing moment, Hawke thought they were Templars. But their armor did not have the sword printed on the breast plates. These were normal warriors.

"That's not the elf! Who is that!?" demanded one of the woman highwaymen.

"It doesn't matter," said one of the male soldiers, drawing her sword. "We were told to kill whoever enters the house!"

Hawke acted quickly. She conjured a ball of flame in her palm and sent it flying forward. It hit the crowd of warriors with an astronomical explosion, making Hawke and the others have to dive down for cover. Hawke drew her sword and began to attack with a mingle of magic and hand-on-hand attacks.

"I thought you said this mission was going to be boring!" laughed Isabela, pouncing forward like a cat onto a soldier and making a ferocious swipe at their neck with one of her twin blades. Hawke grinned back. It was true she loved getting into the heart of the battle. She loved the adrenaline rushes and the opportunities of danger that it offered.

She took a deep breath and from her hands emitted a frosty glaze over the remaining of the warriors, freezing them solid.

"Not bad," complimented Varric, stashing away Bianca, his crossbow. He admired Hawke's handiwork as if they were particularly well done statues sculpted by her. "You really—"

But Varric was cut off by the sudden appearance of a man. It wasn't someone Hawke recognized but he was registering the group with an angry glare.

"I don't know who you are, friend, but you've made a serious mistake coming here," he growled in deep, unnerving voice. Hawke narrowed her eyes dangerously, preparing to make an attack. "Lieutenant, I want everyone in the clearing! _Now!"_

There was a strangled silence for a few moments before a certain horrible gurgling noise was making itself plain from atop the staircase. Hawke spotted him before anyone else. It was a man in armor and from what she could tell, he was nearing death, followed by a trail of blood.

"Captain . . ." he uttered in a raspy, weak breath. He barely spoke the word when he fell to his knees in a pool of his own blood.

And then someone else appeared from around the corner and started making his way down the staircase. Someone who caught Hawke's eyes immediately.

"Your men are dead and your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can."

He held a prominent stride as he walked down the steps with his pointed ears poking out of his tousled, white-silvery hair that made its way into the greenish eyes that blazed even in the darkness of the night. There was no denying the impressive figure he made or with how he spoke in the low, tortured tone.

He walked past the soldier and faced Hawke's group for a moment.

"You're going nowhere, slave!" hissed the warrior, taking the elf's arm roughly in his hand. Even Hawke could see the anger spark up in his eyes on the word 'slave'. It was instantaneous as he whirled around with his arm emitting a strange, whitish blue glow and raised it like a weapon. Hawke and the others stared in a amazement as he ran his fist through the man's chest like a hot blade without a trace of effort left behind.

But the thing that caught Hawke's eye most was the strange, silvery markings along his arms and neck. They seemed to almost have a certain glow to them. She had seen tattoos before but somehow these seemed much more significant.

"I am not a slave," the elf growled dangerously as the man let out a few strangled gasps of pain before his knees buckled beneath him and fell to the ground, just like his lieutenant up on the top of the staircase.

Still holding his impressive stance, the elf turned his attention upon the group watching him. Hawke was in a mingle of awe and weariness.

"I—apologize," said the stranger with a rather dramatic change of demeanor. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so . . . numerous."

Amidst Hawke's past worries, she couldn't help but feel a strong twinge of curiosity and power of intriguing with this elf. He walked past the group and looked off into the distance.

"You were responsible for this whole mess?" Hawke asked with a tone that suggested she was being partially judgmental.

"I am the reason you are here, yes," the elf admitted. He turned to meet Hawke's eyes. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could no face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely," he added, glancing at Hawke again.

Hawke was slightly bemused if a little humored.

"So—Anso really wasn't looking for any lost property? Everything was a lie?" Hawked asked.

"Not everything. Your employer was simply not who you believed."

Hawke smiled. "Anso's job did seem a little too easy," she said passively, laughing slightly under her breath.

"Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have come too accustomed to hiding." Hawke thought this was an odd remark but Fenris continued. "If I may ask: what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"

"It was empty," Hawke said shortly with a curious look at him.

Fenris sighed. "I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know."

"You were expecting something else?"

"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait, nothing more."

Hawke hesitated. "I'm Sera. Sera Hawke. But everyone calls me by my surname."

Fenris didn't seem to know what to think about this little strike of friendliness, so he bent beside the dead hunter and began going through his things. Hawke watched him steadily until he rose again.

"It's as I thought," he muttered darkly, avoiding anyone's eye. "My former master has accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help."

"It sounds like you intend to do more than just talk," Hawke remarked leisurely, examining the elf with some confusion before her.

"Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones and he has sent so many hunters that I have lost count. And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Quinari mage, a personal pet to mock Quinari custom." There was an angry silence as the elf and mage looked back at one another. "So yes, I intend to more than just talk," he added in a dangerous snarl.

Hawke paused yet again. This elf didn't exactly intimidate her, but the last time she had gone along with something with a man who could do weird tricks with his hands, it hadn't ended well.

But then again, this elf intrigued her immensely and she had been doing nothing for the last couple of months sitting on her ass and waiting for something to happen. Perhaps this was her call.

The corners of Hawke's lips twitched upward in a sly, lynx-like smirk as she met the elf's mossy, green eyes.

"Lead the way."


	2. Newcomer

TWO: Newcomer

**(A/N: Hey there! I just wanted to leave a little note saying that I'm trying a new form of writing and I'm sort of experiencing with this story. It's not much different, but in all of my other stories I mainly focus on the protagonist's thoughts and feeling and this is sort of just reaching into the other character's midns as well. I would love reviews to tell me anything; if you hate it, love it, whatever. I just want to know my reader's thoughts ^_^) **

Hawke didn't venture out into Hightown that often. Perhaps she saw eye-to-eye with Isabela's theory that it was snooty and if you couldn't hear a whore in a back alleyway, then it wasn't worth staying in.

But she wasn't the only one to have second thoughts about entering the villa at night. Fenris, though determined as he was, felt the strong pang of initial hesitance strong with him as they traveled further into the night and closer to Danarius's mansion.

This woman, Sera—or Hawke, as she preferred—he barely knew. But he wasn't about to pass a chance of help if someone was offering it willingly. He presumed the only reason she would be helping him was the assumption that she would get something in return, even if he hadn't made any such offer. He would give up his gold willingly; what use did he have for it? Whatever ever happened this night, whether Danarius would be to enslave him again(Fenris reeled with anger at the thought)or Fenris would be to win over him, gold wouldn't serve much to him in the end.

"How much farther?" inquired Hawke. Her neck was beginning to ache after so many timse of glancing over her shoulder for any potential threat hiding in the shadows of the higher estate buildings.

"Not far," murmured Fenris. No sooner had he spoken when Fenris indicated them all to stop in front of what looked like a run down mansion.

"I'm nor sure how I feel about this, Hawke," muttered Varric, quiet enough so only Hawke would be able to hear him. "We only just met this elf; who's to say this isn't a carefully laid out trap?"

"And who would be trying to trap us?" Hawke uttered back. "I know we're a no good lot but we're not _that _bad. Not yet, anyway."

Amidst Varric's concern, he chuckled and felt slightly more reassured. Also, if the brooding elf did try anything, he was certain Hawke and the gang could easily win a duel over him, just like they always do.

"It doesn't appear anyone has left the mansion, but I hear nothing within," said Fenris, apparently oblivious to the whispers Varric and Hawke were casting back and forth. "Danarius may know we're here. I wouldn't put it past him."

"What's the worst that could happen?" said Hawke in her general airy attitude. Varric chuckled under his breath again. Fenris was slightly annoyed at her foolhardy demeanor.

"I do not fear death. That does not mean we should be reckless," he said with a glance towards her. He had met overconfident people before, but then again, this woman did not know Danarius. He pushed his feelings aside. "If we have no more reason for delay, I would like to find my former master."

Hawke opened her mouth to say another snarky comment, but judged against it. She nodded her head.

"You first."

Fenris studied Hawke's face for a few more moments before obliging to her words. Though slightly uneasy by her joking manner, he had to force himself to be grateful considering this woman knew nothing of him or what potential danger he could be leading her into.

Nevertheless, he took the lead and led the group into the house. Almost immediately without planning it, he felt his blood boil as if he could sense the past presence of Danarius. Hawke entered warily behind the elf, glancing around at the mansion which could've have been beautiful except for the fact that it appeared to be abandoned.

"Come out and fight me, Danarius!" shouted Fenris unexpectedly, running forward into the mansion and drawing his large sword from the sash on his back. Hawke proceeded forward, drawing her own blade with Isabela and Varric close behind.

"What profession did you say Danarius was again?" Hawke inquired of Fenris, but the words barely left her lips when there was a sudden explosion of fire and three large, purple Shades appeared. They were hunched over slightly with no visible legs, moving like snails except much quicker. One of their claw-like hands shot forward towards the group.

Hawke acted without thinking. Abandoning the blade in her hand, she closed her eyes and envisioned fire sprawling from the palms of her hands. And the fire complied, shooting like a fountain of flames towards the Shades and knocking them flat to the ground.

Hawke was triumphant until she caught sight of Fenris staring at her. His gaze was no longer calculating or touched with a hint of confusion. His stare held—anger.

"You're a mage . . ." he said, so quietly that Hawke almost didn't hear him. But neither of them had any time to share anymore words. More demons were being summoned by an unseen foe, and they launched themselves into battle once more.

Hawke, though realizing her mistake, didn't think it necessary to try and hide her 'mage-ness' any further. From her hands emitted a vein-like explosion of lightning and almost dealt with the demons immediately. Hawke released a breath of relief; using her magic was something like cracking her bones after hours of sitting in a very uncomfortable position.

She looked towards Fenris with some confusion of his sudden coldness towards her, but he merely looked away with his scowling expression still planted firmly on his face. Leave it to his luck to discover that the only person in reach for help happened to be a mage. He should have known better.

However, Fenris decided the matter to be unimportant at the moment and to finish what they had come to do. Avoiding Hawke's gaze which still held some disarray, he called out instead.

"Danarius! Your pets cannot stop us!"

They entered the main room. It had high ceilings and largely spaced walls with torches decorating the stone walls. Most of the furniture was wrecked and some of the stones on the ground were missing, revealing patches of dirt.

"Well," said Hawke lightly, delivering a side-smile to Fenris. "Your former master really knows how to decorate."

Fenris ignored this comment and continued forward.

"Hang on there, broody," Varric suddenly said, walking in front of Hawke and stopping Fenris in his tracks. Fenris glanced down at the dwarf with some distaste. He didn't appreciate someone he just met calling him 'broody'. Or anyone for that matter. He didn't brood.

"What is it, dwarf?"

"There are traps rigged all over this place. If you took one more step—" Varric bent down to a tile that Hawke wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't pointed it out. It was conspicuously lighter than the others and was raised slightly. The dwarf pressed lightly down on it.

A sudden noise like '_fwing' _sounded through the empty room and a flaming arrow just barely missed Fenris's head. He cursed in Arcanum under his breath. He noticed Hawke was watching him steadily and averted his eyes to the top of the staircase. His eyebrows narrowed.

"Danarius! _Reveal yourself!" _he spat.

"Don't make any sudden movements," Hawke uttered. Fenris glanced at her with questioning anger.

Hawke just closed her eyes and focused on every trap she could locate in the room. This was a trick she had learned not too long ago, with the enthusiastic prodding from Varric of course. She released something in her mind and there was a sudden _clicking _noise from all around.

"What have you done?" questioned Fenris abruptly. Hawke arched an eyebrow.

"Disabled all the traps, using magic of course. Would you like me to turn them on again?"

Fenris merely scowled. In truth, he was grateful. But he wasn't about to admit that to a mage. He ran up the stone steps followed closely by the others. He left off an angry, dangerous fume with every step that he took. If behind that door lay his previous master, the one who preferred to think of him as a wolf on a leash, he wasn't sure how out of control his anger would get.

He burst through the door, his blade raised high above his head. At first his brain didn't register what he saw inside. Nothing. Nothing but a bed, a few chests, bookcase, and a fireplace.

Hawke was slightly bemused. There was indeed demons back there, so where was the perpetrator who had summoned them? She bent beside one of the open chests. Valuable-looking items were tossed carelessly inside, as though someone had left in a rush.

"Gone," said Fenris, lowering his sword in a kind of defeat. Hawke couldn't even comprehend the look in his eyes. It was a sort of strangled horror that was suppressed deep within him. Hawke even managed to feel pity for the elf. "I had hoped . . . no, it doesn't matter any longer."

Hawke glanced away awkwardly, peering towards Isabela and Varric who were also looking away.

"I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I . . . I need some air."

He strode past Hawke and the others without meeting any of their eyes. Hawke watched his figure climb down the stone staircase and eventually out of the mansion. There was a sort of confused silence as they hung around ungainly in the unfamiliar room.

"Well, that was—interesting," said Isabela, breaking the ice.

Hawke glanced towards the chests, then turned her back on them and followed Fenris out of the mansion. When she walked out into the night, she found him leaning on the wall with one foot up and staring out into the distance. Though he didn't look at any of them, Hawke knew he registered their presence.

"It never ends," he said finally, almost as soon as they exited the manor. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and soul. And now I find myself in the company of yet another mage."

He looked at Hawke, then left the wall and walked in front of her with an almost demanding stance.

"I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were. Tell me: what manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

Hawke almost considered this an offensive question. Why only ask a mage this inquiry?

"What does the next person in line seek?" she said with an air of irritation. "Why would _I _specifically seek out anything? I have magic, I use it, but I don't want it to gain anything."

Fenris was slightly put off by this answer, for he had never heard one like it before from any mage. Secretly, he was impressed.

"A tone of wiseness, but I have seen the wisest of mages fall to the power of their own corruption," he said darkly.

"Not all mages are alike, I can be the first to tell you," Hawke retorted.

Fenris found this woman unpredictable and slightly disconcerting, but he was no fool.

"I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised."

Fenris handed Hawke a heavy leather pouch, almost deliberately making sure they made no contact. Hawke pocketed it. Fenris gave a mental sigh and realized what he had to do.

"Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it," he said quietly.

Hawke was extremely taken aback by this sudden offer, and also slightly suspicious.

"You didn't seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago," she said leisurely, cocking her head slightly to one side and gazing at the elf curiously.

"You are not Danarius. Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen," Fenris said shortly.

"Your old master must want more than just a runaway slave," Hawke commented.

"He doesn't want me at all, just the markings on my skin," Fenris snarled. "They are lyrium, burned into my flesh to provide that Danarius required of his pet. And now he wishes his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse."

Suddenly, Hawke was grinning. She had met only a few like Fenris before with their dark pasts and brooding demeanor, and she had always had fun playing with them.

"Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf," Hawke joked, going back to her general cocky mannerism.

Fenris emitted an extremely awkward laugh, before coughing and glancing away.

"Should you—ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wants his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal."

He gave a short bow of the head and Hawke found the corners of her mouth inevitably stretching into a large grin.

She knew she was going to enjoy this new companionship.


End file.
